


Nothing Gold Can Stay

by Bensol



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A bunch of flirting and fluff at first, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Aziraphale is a prince, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Royalty, Swords may or may not get stolen, Yes the title is from a poem, this is what happens when i listen to too much classical music
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 20:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30061035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bensol/pseuds/Bensol
Summary: An AU of them as humans, Crowley is on a mission to aquire a certain sword from prince Aziraphales kingdom, but it isnt as easy as he expected.
Kudos: 1





	Nothing Gold Can Stay

Crowley tied the dark red bow around his neck a little tighter. The huge golden mirror in front of him reflected his image from head to toe. Beginning at his jacket and ending at his heeled shoes, the outfit was in complete black but the velvet coat and ruffles made the texture more interesting. The long sleeves ended in frills of lace. Standing out from dark shine surrounding it, an emblem with his family coat of arms had been embroidered onto the thick, expensive fabric. His hand stoked across the high collar, then straightened the silk tunic one last time by tucking it in. He put some eyeliner on and smoked out his lower lashline, just to make his bright yellow eyes stand out a little more. In younger years he had been insecure about them, hated them even, but now he used them as his superpower. He could catch all eyes, or make people lower their gaze immediately, depending on how threatening he chose their expression to be.  
Peer shifting to the marble walls he could spot behind him in the mirror, he finished up some last touches by adding jewellery. A snake bracelet around his upper arm and a gold necklace with lots of details, most of them flowers or leaves.  
He had a mission, and he was excited for it.  
Simple but not easy probably described it best. Seduce the host, prince Aziraphale, get to his room, steal the golden sword. It had been crafted by his ancestors thousands of years ago and was stolen by Aziraphale's great grandfather, if he remembered correctly. His family wanted it back badly, enough to end a very promising truce between the two kingdoms. Ironically, that was the official reason for his stay. A ball to celebrate peace between former bitter rivals.

He turned, checking out every detail in the mirror again. He looked fabulous, that guy's heart did not stand a chance. It felt almost too easy. Too fun. But in his cockiness he didn't really care. It was a welcomed distraction from court and politics. Taking a last look at the beautifully decorated guest room, Crowley closed the hefty wooden doors and headed to the ballroom. He was fashionably late, the halls were completely abandoned and his steps echoed everytime the heels touched the alabaster tiles. The castle was absolutely gorgeous, he had to give them that. Enchanting almost, with a thrilling charme. The walls were filled with ornaments and chandeliers graced the ceilings, immersing every corner in warm, yellow light. In his head he went over the steps again, 1, 2, 3, a turn, 4, 5, 6. Easy. His feet were moving on muscle memory, more careful now not to get caught. A slight smile played upon his lips. He loved dancing, although back home there weren't too many opportunities to practice.

By the time he reached the doors to the ballroom, solid ebony and at least thrice his height, everyone had started dancing and he could hear the orchestra play a dulcet melody. He took one last deep breath and knocked.  
The gates swung open, the music lowered and all chattering fell silent. Every single pair of eyes in the room was on Crowley, exactly like he had planned.  
Astray from the crowd he could spot Aziraphale.  
Dressed in a beige silk tunic and white, floor-length coat, he matched the marble walls. What stood out were the glistening blue accents on his robe, the glittering silver trim especially. He looked entirely flawless.   
Crowley put on a confident smile and he could see Aziraphale blush as their eyes met.  
Slowly, savouring every last bit of their attention, he made his way across the room, stopping directly before the blonde, holding eye contact the entire time. They probably were the exact same height, but Crowley's heel gave him the advantage of a few centimetres. His hand reached out and he bowed dramatically, finally breaking the mutual gaze. "Would you honour me with a dance, majesty?" His voice was dripping with assertiveness.  
To Crowley's surprise it didn't seem to affect or even impress Aziraphale the slightest bit. Instead he returned the smile, but his seemed remarkably honest, benevolent even. "Well, you're rather late, I'm glad you even showed up to our ball. So yes, with much delight." Without hesitation the man had taken Crowley's hand, and suddenly his confidence was no where to be found.  
Hand in hand, they stepped onto the dancefloor, which was now rather empty. The burning stares of peasants and royalty alike hitting his body didn't feel empowering anymore, just degrading. The music started, and it took Crowley a second to realize he was supposed to move now. Aziraphale cleared his throat and he felt even more embarrassed. In desperate need to collect himself, he took a deep breath, put on the superficial confident smile once again and took the lead.  
One hand intertwined with Aziraphale's, one on his back, he slowly took a step forward, using a shift in his body weight to guide the other.  
What at first felt stiff and forced quickly turned back into the fire that Crowley was used to feeling during dances. It took over his body, his muscles moved on their own as if a new, seperate conscience had conquered them. He was in his element. Sure, maybe his first attempt had failed, but this would be a lasting impression on Aziraphale. It had to.

Grasping the pearl fabric a little tighter and pulling Aziraphale close, he lead through the notes and rhythm, comforted by their familiarity and soothed by the tunes that mixed all too well with the soft sounds of steps on marble floors. After the first few dances the music took a turn and it's pace got faster and lighter, like dawn after a long winter night or the first sunbeams entering a room once curtains are pulled aside. Elevated by it, Crowley also quickened his steps and continued leading Aziraphale into a faster Waltz. 

By the time exhaustion took over their bodies they had already danced for hours, but to their minds it felt like mere seconds, glimpses of something almost out of their bodies control. Aziraphale was blushing slightly and Crowley could feel his face burning as well, unable to differentiate between weariness, thrill and arousal. Their bodies were so close he could feel their hearts race in unison and the tip of his nose almost touched Aziraphale's.

For the first time he loosened his grip and they wandered off to the side, opening the floor up for other pairs. Crowley couldn't help but smile, gone was all superficiality. "That was-" Aziraphale apparently still hadn't caught his breath back"-unexpected. But very...nice. Thank you."

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work with a bunch of chapters but most are already roughly drafted and just need refinement. Please leave feedback if you enjoyed this short introduction and the setting! 
> 
> Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day/night!


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